Free Star Trek by Glenn Hauman Page A

except in a professional capacity—and lately, I’ve been getting reports you haven’t even been doing that. I understand that you’ve been letting the Emergency Medical Hologram do most of your patient work.
L: Yes, I have. Emmett’s supposed to learn procedure, and there’s no other way to do that than to let him do the work, interacting with patients and situations in the field.
G: The specifications on this EMH gave him a huge medical database. Yes, it had the personality of a first-year resident, but that was to make it seem eager and helpful. Not burned out and abrasive.
L: Well, that may be what was planned. He’s still rough around the edges. I believe he needed real-world experience, and I’ve been giving it to him. And to be fair, you don’t have the expertise in the field to make that decision as to his medical skills and expertise.
G: We’re digressing, Doctor. This isn’t about the EMH. It’s about you. I’m beginning to think that
you’re
the one that’s burned out.
L: I see.
G: You know, I have records here going all the way back to your time in the Academy. I have this glowing recommendation from the head of Starfleet Medical at the time, Dr. Crusher. Have you ever seen it?
L: No. I only took one class with her, then she went back to duty on the
Enterprise.
G: Let me quote: “Elizabeth Lense is one of the fastest studies I’ve ever come across. Brilliant and incisive diagnosis ….” An outstanding school career, first in your class at the Academy, all of it leading to being appointed CMO of the
U.S.S.
Lexington
right out of Starfleet Medical. Unprecedented in Starfleet history in peacetime. A truly great honor … and then you end up here.
L: Here? Captain Gold, the
da Vinci
is a fine ship—
G: A damn fine ship, and thank you for the compliment. But after serving on the
Lexington,
with a crew complement of hundreds, this is a bit of a reduction of duties, wouldn’t you say? Going down to a ship with only forty crewmembers? A ship so small you go from a suite of your own to sharing a room? A ship so small … that it doesn’t even have a ship’s counselor.
L: Pardon me, but could I take you up on that offer for a glass of water?
G: Certainly. You don’t mind if I continue?
L: Could I stop you?
G: Not particularly.
L: Well. Go ahead, then.
G: Thank you. Computer, a glass of water, please. [Replicator hum.] Here you go.
L: Thank you, sir.
G: Now then, back to the matter at hand. Over the past few weeks, you’ve been less and less engaged with this crew and with your duties. I noted that you’ve been spending more time eating in sickbay than your quarters or the mess hall. You’re in a bad way, Doctor, and it’s beginning to seriously affect your work.
L: That’s absurd.
G: You don’t believe me? Gold to Emergency Medical Hologram.
EMH: Sickbay, Emmett here. May I help you, Captain?
G: Emmett, I need a diagnosis. Would you say that Dr. Lense has been behaving erratically lately? A little off-kilter?
L: Emmett—
G: Pipe down, Doctor. Or else.
E: Captain, is Dr. Lense with you? Does she require medical assistance?
G: No, nothing at the moment. I was merely asking if she’d seemed off-kilter to you.
E: Dr. Lense has seemed … fatigued, lately. Somewhat listless. She has shown markedly diminished interest in almost all activities most of the day. I would suspect a degree of sleep disorder based on observation.
G: Your diagnosis?
E: Her symptoms are characteristic of a depressive episode. I couldn’t attest to state of mind or causes without further examination.
G: Thank you.
E: Is there any other way I can be of assistance, Captain?
G: Not at this time. Gold out.
L: [Unintelligible] observant, I’ll give him that.
G: Well, Doctor? Do you disagree with your colleague’s conclusion?
L: He’s not a colleague, he’s a database with delusions of grandeur. A mechanic of